


50 Days of Gwen

by BananaFana0883



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Out of the Shadows (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 11,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaFana0883/pseuds/BananaFana0883
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I found this list of fifty prompts kicking around in my google drive and decided to make a little challenge for myself out of it.  So my plan is to do one ficlet a day for fifty days, going straight down the list and focusing on my OC and the TMNT universe she and the guys play in (for more info, please see my WIP Here's Looking at You, Kid).  Each chapter will be a separate little drabble, inspired by that day's word/phrase.  If anyone else wants to do it, let me know and I'll send you the list of words/phrases I'm using.  (Also, if anyone recognizes this list and can link me to the person who originally posted it on tumblr, I would appreciate it!  I'd like to give credit where credit is due!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don’t Leave

"And then, at the end, he  _ dies! _ "

"Yeah, I've seen Gremlins; I know," Gwen said absently, the majority of her attention on the act of straightening Sean's blankets and tucking them in around him.

"No, mama," the six year old said, deadly serious.  "He  _ melted _ .  Like, his eyes and bones and  _ everything _ !"

Gwen paused, her eyes going to the little freckled face that she loved so much, and there was something there in his expression, dimly illuminated as it was, that had her own face softening and her shoulders rounding just a touch.  "I'm not so sure movie nights with Uncle Mikey are a good idea," she said gently, sitting down on the edge of his bed and running one tattooed hand over his carrot-orange hair.

Panic flickered across Sean's face.  "But!  No, mum, it wasn't scary!  I mean, it  _ was _ , but I'm not  _ scared _ !"

Gwen smiled, "Oh really?  Well, I guess I can just kiss you goodnight and walk out then?"

Sean nodded, his face resolute.  

"Okay then."  Gwen leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, blew the bad dreams out of his ears and wished him a good night.  "I'll see you in the morning, baby."

"G'night, mum."

"Good night," Gwen returned, heading for the door.  Slowly though, because she knew she'd never make it past the threshold--

"Mum?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you maybe stay until I go to sleep?"


	2. This was a Mistake

The tears were right there, burning at the back of her eyes, and it was nothing but sheer willpower that kept them from spilling over.  She couldn't fall apart, not  _ now _ ; not with the kids right in the other room.  She'd have plenty of time for that later.  

"Useless fucking piece of shit," Gwen growled, chucking the disc of birth control pills into the trash beside the vanity.  You'd think she would have learned her lesson by now; Sean and Betsy had both been conceived while using some sort of contraceptive but she'd been so much more responsible about it since she started the Pill!  Every single morning when she was getting ready for the day, she'd take that tiny pill and it worked.  It worked for  _ years  _ \- until now.  

She pulled in a deep breath, meeting her own eyes in the mirror and she could clearly see the indecision there in the brown depths.  She was pregnant again, but this time . . .

"Oh god," she gasped, emotion overwhelming her.  She pressed a hand to her mouth, curling in on herself as she turned and sank to the floor, back against the vanity.  This time she wouldn't be creating a perfect little human being . . . she loved Raphael, she  _ did _ , but  _ what the fuck was growing inside of her? _

The thought brought with it a wave of terror, regret, guilt . . . and the tears she'd tried so desperately to suppress escaped in a choked sob.  

"Mum, I want cereal!"

Gwen's eyes went to the bathroom door, closed and locked against tiny intruders, and she wiped frantically at the tears streaming down her face, hiccupy breaths clattering her ribs.  "One second, Seanie," she answered, voice quavering as she reached up onto the sink and grabbed her cell, fingers knocking into the pregnancy test and sending it to the floor next to her with a soft clatter.  

A knock on the door.  "Mum, are you in there?"

A quick Safari search brought up the nearest Planned Parenthood location.  "I'll be done in a second, baby."  She thumbed the phone number and put the ringing cell to her ear.  "Hi," she said into the phone, "Yeah, can I make an appointment?" 


	3. I Trusted You

"Who was that?"

"Who was  _ what? _ " Gwen sighed, purposely closing the front door behind her and dropping her bag onto the table  _ before  _ turning to face her boyfriend.  The boyfriend who sort of looked as if he were about to start throwing furniture around the apartment, hands balled into fists and smoke practically billowing from his nose.  

"The guy who dropped you off."

One eyebrow rose as Gwen's hand landed on her hip, annoyance bubbling up in her gut at his words and the accusatory tone he'd delivered them in.  "Are you fucking  _ kidding  _ me?" she demanded.  "Raph, I just worked a fucking pole for half the night, my feet are killing me, I have about three inches of makeup caked on my face and you have the fucking audacity to ask me who that was?  The guy who was kind enough to give me a ride home so I  _ wouldn't  _ have to take the subway?"

"Well, who was he?" he demanded right back.  "I saw you fuckin' kiss 'im!"

"What, you were watching me from the window?  This is ridiculous," Gwen scoffed, turning away and heading for the bathroom.  "I'm going to take a shower."  She flipped on the light and started to close the door behind her, only to have a huge green hand land flat on the wooden surface, solid and unyielding, and Gwen's eyes darkened as they fastened on Raphael's glowering face.  "Let go," she ground out from between clenched teeth.

"Just tell me who it was!"

"You know what?   _ No _ ," Gwen fired back.  "Fuck you and your trust issues, okay?  I didn't blow him in the back seat of his car; I  _ kissed him on the cheek _ , Raphael.  He's a  _ friend _ .  Christ, not every guy is going to try to steal me away from you!"  She knew as soon as the words left her mouth that she'd pushed him too far, been too callous with his insecurities, and the way his face closed down only confirmed it.  

With a growl, he turned away, stomping through the apartment as he snapped over his shoulder, "I'm goin' home."

"Raph, wait," Gwen said with a sigh, following him out of the bathroom.  "I'm sorry," she continued, sincerity pushing the bitchiness out of her tone.  "I shouldn't have said that."

"Yeah, well you did," he grumbled, drawing to a stop but not turning to look at her.  

"That was Tyson, Tembi's brother," Gwen explained, reaching out to run a hand over his carapace, fingers tracing a long-healed crack.  "He's a nice guy and I can assure you that he has  _ zero  _ interest in me."

"How d'you know that?" Raph grumped, shoulders hunching.

"He's gay."


	4. One Chance

It was so fucking stupid but also kinda brilliant and as much as he may have grumped about it at first - Tortoise and the Hare?   _ Seriously? _ \- Raph had to admit that there was something . . .  _ magical  _ about being able to walk through Coney Island freely; to weave through the crowd with the only shouts being ones of praise for a  _ badass costume, man!  _

Betsy sat on his shoulders, fuzzy white bunny ears atop her pale curls and pudgy hands holding tight to his temples, and with all the exuberance of  _ Mikey _ , Sean practically ran circles around them in his paper mache turtle shell -  _ Look at that!  Mum, can we get funnel cake?  Can we go on the ferris wheel?  Raph, d'ya wanna ride the Cyclone with me? _

The answers were always yes, of course.  Coney Island, and everything it consisted of, was a treat of the highest caliber, and certainly not the time to put silly parental restrictions on things like soda and junk food or worry over whether those treats mixed well with roller coasters or not.

As fun as the kids were though, with their bright-eyed excitement, Raphael found it nearly impossible to tear his eyes away from Gwen.  The bunny costume she'd made was equal parts sexy and cute, with its lace ears and little black tail stuck atop her mouthwatering, leather-clad ass, but it was the shine in her eyes - the pure happiness on her face - that kept his gaze returning to her.  Halloween was their one chance to be a normal couple; to be seen in public together without more than a few curious looks and she was milking it for all it was worth.  Her hands never strayed far from him, fingers lacing with his or trailing over his forearm, and she'd playfully bump him with her hip as they walked, her flirty glances promising all sorts of filthy activities for later.    

"This is nice," he commented later, as they stood in line for soft pretzels.

Gwen lifted her eyes to his, sidling just a bit closer as she ran a hand over his side and offered him a grin.  "It is," she agreed.  "Doing shit that families do . . ."

"Yeah."  Raphael returned her grin with one of his own and there was undeniable pride there in the set of his shoulders and the tone of his voice as he continued, "Yeah, we're like a regular family, ain't we?" 


	5. Help

"What happened that night, Gwen?"

"What night?"

"You know what night I'm talking about," Dr. Bell said gently, peering at her over the rim of her glasses.  "Where was your father when you left that night?"

"He was . . . sleeping," Gwen answered, eyes dipping away with the lie. 

"Sleeping where?"

"On the couch."

"So you snuck out?"

"I walked out," Gwen clarified.  She hadn't needed to  _ sneak _ , she never did when her father was high.

"Why did you leave?  Were you mad at your father?"

"No.  I just wanted to go for a walk."  The lie came easily.  She couldn't tell anyone that she was sneaking out to see her ninja turtle friends who lived in the sewers.

"It was your birthday wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"You're thirteen now, right?"  At Gwen's nod, Dr. Bell continued, "Happy belated.  Did your father do anything special for your birthday?"

"No.  I mean, he said Happy Birthday to me before I went to school but that was it."

"Does that bother you?  That your father didn't get you a gift or a cake or even sing you  _ Happy Birthday _ ?"

"Nope."

"Where did you get the weapon?"

"What weapon?"

"You know what weapon I'm talking about, Gwen.  The one that--"

"That I used to kill the guy," Gwen finished, monotone.

Dr. Bell nodded.  "Yes.  Where did you get it?"

"Found it."

"Where?"

"Down by the tracks."  Gwen's eyes went to the window, watching as the early winter snow drifted lazily to the sidewalk outside.

"That night?"

"Yup."

"Had you ever seen that man before that night?"

"I dunno." 

"You don't know?"

"I mean, I could've."  Gwen shrugged, hands twisting together in her lap.  "He wasn't someone who hung out near my building but that doesn't mean I never saw him before.  How often do  _ you  _ pay attention to homeless junkies?"

"Gwen, you have to understand; there are a lot of holes in your story and we're just trying to figure out exactly what happened that night.  We're trying to  _ help  _ you."

Gwen's eyes snapped back to the psychiatrist.  "You're trying to send me away.  You think that my dad isn't a good dad and you're trying to take me away from him."  Her voice rose as she scooted closer to the edge of the couch, eyes shining with tears.  She was losing  _ everything  _ and none of them could see that!  "But I don't want to go; I want to stay with him!  I don't want to leave!  This is my home and he's my dad and I belong with him!  Without me . . . without me he has  _ nothing _ .  You're the ones who don't understand; _ I can't leave! _ "


	6. Illusion

Just around the corner from Boston Common, the stately brownstone on Beacon Hill was probably one of the nicest homes Gwen had ever stepped foot in.  The ancient wooden floor gleamed under her worn sneakered feet, a narrow stairway rose up in front of her and all of the furniture in view was sleek and modern, a charming contrast to the period details of the home itself.

"Your room is on the third floor," her mother said, leaving delicate perfume in her wake as she stepped around Gwen and moved deeper into the home.  Her Armani purse was set on the sideboard, her Jimmy Choos slipped off of pedicured feet and absently pushed aside.  

"Yeah, okay," Gwen answered, pulling her eyes from the stranger in front of her, gaze going to the stairs once again.  Reluctantly, she started up them, the painted banister smooth under her hand, but her eyes were focused on the landing above.  There was an open door at the top and inside the room stood a heavy desk, neatly organized with everything in its place and an expensive computer sitting silently atop it.  She turned to find a set of closed double doors - her mother's room she'd soon find out - and continued past them to mount the next staircase.  This one was even narrower and the third step creaked loudly as she put her weight on it, a detail she filed away for later.

Her bedroom was huge, much bigger than her room in New York, and filled with a gorgeous white bedroom set, brand new and pristine.  The walls were pink-patterned wallpaper with white wainscoting on the lower half and, immediately, Gwen hated all of it - the bed, the dresser with its scrolled mirror, the fireplace, the  _ pink _ .  She dropped her bag with a thud, immediately crossing to the nearest window in hopes of finding a fire escape.  Nothing.  She moved to the next window and felt her spirits lift.  She wasn't trapped here.

"I hope you like the bedroom set."

Gwen started, turning abruptly from the window to find her mother standing in the doorway.  "It's, um . . . it's okay."

"Consider it a birthday present."

"Okay."  

Silence fell between them and brown eyes drifted around the room again, eager to look anywhere but at the slim blonde woman; it was disconcerting for Gwen to see her own features in such an unfamiliar face.  

"Listen," her mother said suddenly, her tone growing cold.  "I didn't want you thirteen years ago and I certainly don't want you now.  We're stuck with each other though, so we need to make the best of it."

Emotion had her jaw tensing, but Gwen stoically held back any trace of tears.  "Dad wants me," she ground out.  

"Yeah, well your dad screwed that up, just like everything else in his life."  One eyebrow lifted, "My bedroom and my office are off-limits.  Bedtime is nine, no later.  I enrolled you at The Winsor School - it's girls only so we shouldn't have to worry about promiscuity - and I expect you home immediately after school ends to do your homework and chores.  You'll take at least two extracurriculars - one can be gymnastics if you'd like - and anything less than a B will be met with punishment . . ."

Those tears were so close to escaping, only held in check by the promise of escape and the plans were already forming as her mother droned on and on.  Gwen just needed to bide her time, play along for a bit, and then she could run away.  She could go back to New York, to her father, to her friends, to her school, to Leo and Donnie and Mikey . . . and Raphael.  They couldn't keep her here if she didn't want to stay, right?  This wasn't  _ prison _ .

  
". . . and," her mother finished, "every decision will be made for you,  _ by me _ ."


	7. Silent Fury

She couldn't avoid him forever, Gwen knew, but she only had to make it through tomorrow.  Twenty four hours and then she'd be done with her appointment, the choice made, and everything could go back to normal.  So far, the texts and phonecalls had been enough and she wasn't lying when she said she was busy, even if it meant turning down Raphael's offers to help so she could stay that way.  She just had to make it through the next twenty four hours.

Of course, stubborn asshole that he was, Raphael had a different plan and he was waiting for her when she got home from her shift at the diner.  

"You been avoiding me?" he asked, opening the conversation with tense shoulders and even tenser words.

"I've just been busy," Gwen answered evasively.  "Listen," she sighed, "I want to grab a shower and something to eat before I have to pick up Sean.  Can we talk later?"

"No, we can't."  He stalked closer.  "Yer actin' weird Gwen."

Shit.  Gwen sighed again, running a hand over tired eyes, and she felt her stomach turn.  "Everything's fine, Raph," she insisted, swallowing the burn of acid in the back of her throat.  "It's just been a busy few--"  She met his eyes and when she saw the confusion and hurt poorly hidden beneath the angry scowl on his face, her voice broke.  How could she do this to him?  The guilt sat hot in her gut, nestled next to that rapidly multiplying ball of cells that had started her on this hellish roller coaster.  God, she was such a _ terrible person! _

And she was telegraphing all of those emotions, she had to be, because his face softened, the scowl melting away and he started toward her with reaching arms.  "Did something happen?" he asked, voice low and dripping with concern.

Gwen was shaking her head, even as the tears welled and overflowed, and she started to turn away from him.  She couldn't look at him because she knew that if she did, her resolve would shatter--

"I'm getting an abortion tomorrow," she blurted and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her boyfriend recoil, his hand snatched back just shy of touching her.

"What?" he rasped, the word barely audible.  

Gwen turned back to him and the disbelief, the raw  _ pain, _ on his face nearly brought her to her knees.  "I'm sorry," she whispered, voice trembling.  "But . . . but we don't even know what it'll be!  Will it be normal like Sean and Betsy or--"

"Or a fuckin'  _ mutant  _ like me?"

His words were like a kick in the gut, painful with honesty and hurt, but still Gwen nodded.  "What kind of life will it have?" she sobbed.  "Hidden away - where? - in the  _ sewer _ ?  Raphael, what kind of life is that for a  _ baby _ ?"  She intrepidly forged ahead, pleading with eyes and voice, her entire body, for him to understand why this was the right choice.  "And what if I can't even birth it?  What if it kills me, Raph?  I can't just go to the hospital!  And Donnie . . . Donnie's never done anything like this . . ."  

Silence.  

"Raphael, say something," she begged and now it was her turn to reach for him.  "Please, Raphael?  Please say something . . ."

He didn't though.  For once in his life, Raphael was without words or actions, and that inability to express himself came through in the fine tremor running through his muscles as he turned and walked away from her.


	8. Sunbathing

"So what do you think?" 

Stretched out on a huge bean bag chair in a patch of sunlight, Gwen's voice pulled Raphael to full wakefulness, eyes blinking open as she sauntered into the living room.  "Holy shit," he breathed, gaze running over her with naked appreciation.  

Her eyes lit as she struck a sassy pose, her popped hip a convenient place for her hand to settle as she offered him a cheeky grin.  "That good, huh?" 

"Fuck yah," Raph said, pushing himself up onto his hands so he could get a better look.  The red leather contrasted sharply with the black fishnet and the pale, tattooed skin peeking through, leaving long limbs bare.  He licked his lips, leaning forward to reach for her, but Gwen stepped back so his hand closed on empty air. 

"Oh, I don't think so, Raphael," she purred, spinning in a circle and putting an extra bit of teasing into the movement.  "You're not unwrapping this present until I say so."  

He watched with eager eyes as she plucked up the cell phone she'd left on the coffee table, thumbing it awake and seconds later Prince's  _ Darling Nikki _ pumped through the speaker.  

"I met a girl named Nikki I guess you could say she was sex fiend . . ." she sang softly, body moving to the languid beat.  Her hands traveled over her curves, gathering up her hair as she danced closer to him, hips rolling, and somewhere deep in the back of Raph's mind he was bothered that this was the sort of show she put on for those horny losers at the club.  Bothered, yes, but not enough to tell her to stop or even to fan those feelings and distract from the show she was giving him, silhouetted against the sunlight like some sort of angel.  

They were well into the second verse when she finally moved close enough to touch, reaching out and taking his hands, placing them on her hips as she straddled his lap.  "You're so warm," she murmured, leaning in and kissing along his collarbone, hands slipping under the waistband of his shorts.  "You sure you don't want to go back to basking?"

A rumbling churr escaped him, the noise vibrating through his chest and coaxing her closer.  "I'm sure.  The sun ain't got nothin' on you, babe."


	9. Falling

"You said you were gonna come with me, dad.  You  _ promised _ ."

"Not . . . not t'day, Gwen," he slurred, head lolling.  "T'morrow."

"Daddy, tomorrow's not Thanksgiving;  _ today  _ is."  Gwen watched her father's face, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow, and she knew that it would take a miracle to get him off the couch now.  She reached out and took the needle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table with the rest of his paraphernalia, then straightened with a sigh.  "I'll just go myself then!" she said loudly, stomping toward the door.  "Hear that, dad?  I'm going to the parade myself!  You'd better hope I don't get stolen!"

She hadn't been stolen though, much to her disappointment.  Not on the subway or on the walk along 6th Avenue, nor when she stopped to buy a hotdog from a street vendor with money she'd found the night before.  She'd been angry at first - hoping that someone  _ would  _ steal her, just so she could stick it to her father - but eventually those feelings had faded, pushed aside by the music, the noise, the excitement!  It all had Gwen buzzing with adrenaline, her blood singing right along with the Beach Boys and, perhaps because of that  _ buzzing _ or maybe because she was craning her neck to see the new Polar Express float, she fell off the curb.  

The pavement came up to meet her, hands and knees protected by the winter clothes she wore, but still her chest hit the unyielding street and knocked the breath from her lungs.  The noise of the parade was suddenly deafening, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she gasped in a breath, but all of that was forgotten as she locked gazes with a pair of blue eyes.  

The moment seemed to stretch forever as Gwen's brain struggled to make sense of what she was seeing.  Not one pair of blue eyes, but two; and two more sets besides, one fuzzy behind thick glasses, but the strangest thing was that each pair of eyes was set in a green, slightly  _ reptilian  _ face.  And those four sets of eyes, those four green faces, were peering at her through the sewer inlet set into the curb.  

And then the shortest creature spoke: "S'up?"

Gwen blinked.

And as if that word had broken a dam, suddenly all of them were talking.

"Mikey, shut up!"

"You shouldn't be talking to her!"

"We shouldn't even be here!"

"I'll talk to 'er!  I ain't scared!"

Gwen's lips parted, but before she could utter a sound, she was being hauled back to her feet and a woman with a sweet round face was asking her if she was okay.  "I - I'm fine," Gwen answered, eyes drifting down to the drain again as she pushed the woman's hands away from her.  

"Are you sure?  Where are your parents?"

"They're down there," she lied, making a vague gesture toward 42nd Street but her attention was still firmly on that storm drain.  So firmly, in fact, that she nearly missed the woman flagging down a passing police officer.

  
Gwen let out a curse and shrugged out of her backpack, digging through it until she came up with a pen and a crumbled up homework paper she'd never finished.  She scribbled a quick note -  _ train tracks near Rockaway and Ave D, 2morrow night _ \- then dropped the paper down into the inlet.  With one last glance at the approaching cop, she said to the woman who'd helped her, "My parents are right over here!  Thanks!"  And then she made her escape.


	10. Righteous

He was nervous, his stomach flip-flopping like Mikey doing cartwheels, but bravado had him staring Leo down with narrowed eyes and balled up fists.  "You got somethin' t' say, Leo?" Raphael sneered, taking another step closer to his older brother.  

"Yeah, this is stupid, Raph!" Leo insisted again.  "Think about what you're doing!   _ What would Sensei think? _ "

"Ohh, Raphie, he's got a point," Mikey chimed in.  He was loving this though, skinny limbs nearly vibrating with excitement as he watched his two eldest brothers face off.  He turned to the blonde next to him and gave her a grin, lowering his voice in a mockery of secrecy, "They do this all the time."

"Mikey, shut up!" Raph snapped, but his eyes never left Leo's.  "I don't care what Splinter thinks," he spat, and in this very moment, he didn't.  Well, not  _ really  _ anyway.  He had a girl to impress!  

Donnie cleared his throat, pushing his ill-fitting glasses up the bridge of his nose as he stepped closer to the two turtles squaring off in front of him, "Actually Raph, there are a lot of health risks-- _ yowch! _  Okay, okay!  Never mind then!"

"I'm doin' it," Raph announced, shoving Leo back a step.  "Whether you like it or not!" 

"Raph, don't!"

But he turned away from Leo's protest without a backward glance, his attention settling on the human girl watching him with a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth and something in her eyes that someone with a better vocabulary may have identified as  _ enchantment _ .  "Lemme see that," he said and Gwen lifted her hand, offering the cigarette between thumb and forefinger.  

He swallowed back his nerves and took it, brushing his fingers along hers before slipping the filter between his lips with all the confidence he could muster.  At his side, Mikey slipped up next to him, watching with eager eyes as he offered the battered book of matches.  

Raph snatched them out of the youngest turtle's hand and with a faint  _ scritch  _ and a  _ pop  _ brought the flame to life.   _ Here goes nothin'. _  His gaze went back to Gwen and the subtle encouragement she was giving with expectant eyes, her lip caught between her teeth, urged him onward.

"You have to suck in to get it to catch fire," Gwen said, stepping closer.  "That's what my dad always does, anyway."

"Yeah Raphie!" Mikey cheered, thumping him roughly on the shell.  


Like he was told to do, Raphael touched the flame to the end of the cig and inhaled - and the last thing he saw before the coughing fit tightened his chest and doubled him over was Leonardo's disappointed scowl.


	11. Drastic

He'd never worked with such a pristine canvas, pale and smooth and so fuckin' flawless that it was distracting - but then again, Gwen's ass was  _ always  _ a distraction; the difference was, typically, Raph was able to allow himself to  _ be  _ distracted, to let his eyes drink in the soft curve of the muscle, the dimples nestled there at her lower back . . . 

Tonight was too important though.  He needed to  _ focus  _ and she was making it exceedingly difficult with every coy glance over her shoulder.  "Stay still," he muttered around the cigarette dangling from his lips, using a paper towel to wipe away the tiny beads of blood.

"Are you almost done?"  She flexed her feet, wiggling red painted toes in excitement.  "I wanna see!"

"Maybe," he grunted, straightening in his chair to admire his handiwork from a distance.  He took another puff on the cigarette, holding it between his fingers as he studied the swirling red lines, silently judging how smooth his artwork was, and felt arousal stirring low in his belly at the sight of his name  _ literally  _ tattooed on Gwen's ass.  It was a sign of trust, of devotion, of  _ ownership _ , and it was turning him right the fuck on.  

They'd dragged a kitchen chair into the bedroom to serve as a makeshift workstation and Raph set the tattoo machine down atop it, then dropped the nearly spent cigarette into an empty soda can, the hiss of an extinguished ember echoing against the metal.  "A'right, you wanna see?" he asked, deciding that it was as finished as it was ever gonna be.

Stretched out face down on the bed, Gwen gave a full body wiggle in response, "Yes!"  She pushed herself up and hopped off the bed, nearly skipping to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall next to her sewing corner.  There was a gasp, a delighted giggle, and again Raph felt his body respond to the sight before him.  She was covered in ink, nearly from neck to feet, but every single bit of it was blackwork - except  _ Raphael  _ scrawled across her right cheek in deep red.  It was like a beacon, drawing the eye, and the sight of it there had every one of his instincts revving into full gear.

"It's perfect!" she declared, bouncing back across the room and flopping belly down onto the bed once again.  "I need you to do something for me now," she continued, propped up on her elbows and watching him with eyes that were quickly darkening with lust.

"Yah?" he asked, unable to stop himself from touching her.  His hand smoothed over her ass, finger hooking the crotch of her g-string and pushing it aside to dip a finger between her lips.

Her next words were nearly lost in a moan and it took her two tries to get them out past the feel of his probing digit.  "You need to leave -  _ ah! _ \- teeth prints o-on the other cheek."

Raphael's grin was positively lascivious as he abandoned his chair and climbed onto the bed, "You know you ain't even gotta fuckin' ask . . ."


	12. Candles

If there was one thing Mikey liked, it was being included - and if that inclusion involved a secret and someone choosing to come to  _ him  _ instead of his brothers?  Even better!  It was always nice to feel needed, wanted,  _ important _ .

So he hadn't wasted any time in leaving Leo and Donnie behind and going topside, heading for Gwen's apartment without dilly-dallying.  He had no idea what was wrong, after all, and it could be an emergency that  _ only he _ could help her with!  The conversation had been frustratingly short, with all of his questions met with some variation of  _ would you please just get here?  And don't tell Donnie and  _ **_especially_ ** _ not Leo! _

"I'm here, Cupcake!" he announced, moving through the quiet apartment.  The lights were dim, the puppy whining from her little playpen, and Mikey took a detour to baby-talk her and run his hand over silky ears.  

"Shh!" Gwen hissed as she appeared in the living room doorway, a silky red and black robe wrapped around her.  "The kids are sleeping."

Mikey's eyes widened, mouth falling open.  "Oh.  Oh yeah, my bad," he quickly apologized.  "Hey, where's Raph?"

"That's why I need your help."  She started toward him, ignoring Cookie's attention-seeking whine for the moment.  

"Is Raph okay?" Mikey asked, his voice lowering automatically to match Gwen's.

Gwen made a _ eek! _ sort of face, head bobbing back and forth, "Um, I guess?  I mean, he's not  _ hurt  _ . . ."

With every passing second, Mikey's expression became just a touch more worried, more confused, and Gwen must have easily recognized that because she waved away his worry and reached out to take his hand.  "Just . . . you kinda have to  _ see  _ it to understand."

So he allowed her to lead him toward the bathroom, his mind spinning with all sorts of scenarios - some good, some bad - but the sight that greeted him when she pushed open the door trumped all of them.  There were candles, lots of candles, all lit and and placed around the bathroom, a bottle of wine sat on the vanity next to two untouched glasses, and the floor was covered with - not rose petals like one would expect - but towels, all laid out and sopping wet.  

But the best part of it all, the part that had Mikey's eyes lighting with mirth and a delighted grin spreading on his face, was the sight of Raphael wedged sideways in the tub, his shell at an awkward angle and without a doubt,  _ stuck _ .

"Don't say a fuckin' word!" Raph snarled, leveling a warning finger at his youngest brother.  

But Mikey was truly fit to explode, the laughter bubbling up in his chest more than he could handle, and it was Gwen's little giggle that pushed him over the edge.  The laughter escaped in a raucous gaffaw, doubling him over as he slapped a knee, and it continued until he was pretty sure his knees were going to give out or he was gonna piss his pants - or both! 

"Yeah, real funny," Raph ranted, shifting his weight in a futile attempt to dislodge himself.  "Shut up, Mikey!  If ya tell Leo about this I swear to god, I'm gonna to pop yer head like a grape!"

There was no stopping the laughter though and it continued, in snorts and giggles and jokes, the entire time they worked to free him from the clutches of the bathtub.

"Hope yer enjoyin' this," Raphael grunted, reaching for the water spout to help pull himself free as Gwen poured vegetable oil around where carapace met tub wall.  "Cause you ain't gonna be laughin' much longer . . ."


	13. Too Loud

It was amazing - and terrifying - that something so loud could come from something so tiny.  The shrieks were piercing more than Gwen's ear drums though, shrill and desperate as they were, and she'd never felt as helpless as she did in this moment with this tiny, freshly formed baby in her arms.  She paced back and forth across the living room, bouncing the newborn Sean in her arms and trying to ignore the dull ache that permeated every muscle in her body.  Childbirth was  _ no joke _ .

"Can't you shut him up?" Max complained from his spot on the couch.  There was an X-Box controller in his hand, a Red Bull on the coffee table in front of him, and a scowl on his freckled face.

Gwen pulled up short as her eyes flashed, worry and stress easily giving way to anger.  "No, I can't _ shut him up! _ " she snapped, grabbing a magazine from the table next to her and hucking it at him.  "I don't know what's wrong with him!"  

Max glared at her and threw the magazine right back, and the soft  _ thwap  _ against her thigh had that anger bubbling over.  "Fuck you!" she screamed, adrenaline pumping through her body and causing the baby to howl even louder.  "Take your fucking game and shove it up your ass!"

"You're such a fucking bitch!" Max fired right back.  "I don't need this bullshit today!  I have a fight tonight, you know that!"

"Yeah, boo-fucking-hoo," Gwen sneered, turning away and heading for the bedroom.  "I hope you get your face smashed in!"

"Fuck you!"

Gwen slammed the door behind her, effectively ending the argument with the turn of a lock, and she dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed.  Fingertips ran over the beet-red skin of Sean's cheeks, her anger fizzling out as tears gathered in her own eyes.  "Please stop crying?" she pleaded in a whisper, her own sobs barely held in check.  "Please stop.  I don't know what else to do for you.  I changed you, I burped you, it's not time for you to eat yet . . ."

Those plaintive wails continued though, tiny hands curled into angry, flailing fists, and Gwen found herself crying right along with him.  "I shouldn't have done this," she said in a broken whisper.  "I'm too young to be a mom."

The minutes dragged by and the crying continued and finally, out of desperation and frustration, she put him to her breast again.  He batted at her, head whipping from side to side, but with a calming deep breath, Gwen brushing her nipple along his lip and, like magic, he suddenly latched on.  The quiet was broken only by his exhausted, hiccupy breaths and Gwen's own relieved sobs.  "Every three hours?   _ Bullshit _ .  Those nurses don't know anything."  

She cuddled him close, allowing him to nurse to his heart's content, and eventually the furtive suckling slowed, his hands relaxed, and his eyes drifted closed in contented bliss.  And Gwen found herself staring at his little face, the perfect curve of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks, and for the first time since she'd laid eyes on him nearly a week ago, she found herself falling in love.  


	14. Overgrown

"No, not tonight," Gwen snapped, pushing eager hands away and rolling away with a huff.

Raphael drew back, the bed creaking under his weight.  "Whatsa matter with you?" he grunted, pushing up onto one elbow.  "You were fine before."

"I just don't feel like it," she insisted, eyes focused on the damask patterned wall next to the bed.  Behind her, there was another creak as the giant turtle shifted closer and Gwen could see him out of her peripherals,  _ feel  _ him looming over her.

"Are you blushin'?" 

Gwen groaned and buried her face in the pillow.

The bed rocked again and then he was nuzzling into the nape of her neck, sending pleasant little shivers through her body.  "We ain't gotta fuck," he murmured, teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh under her ear.  "But can ya tell me what's wrong, at least?"

Gwen gave a huffy sigh and rolled onto her back again so she could meet his eyes.  Her belly, just beginning to round out with burgeoning life, automatically drew Raphael's attention and his huge hand smoothed across the tattooed skin.  "My coochie is like a fucking jungle," she admitted.  "I'm overdue for a wax but I just don't feel like going; I don't feel like doing  _ anything _ ."  Couldn't she just sit and gestate for the next few months?

Raphael stared at her, mirth sparkling in his eyes.  "That's why you don't wanna fuck?  Cuz yer fuckin' twat is hairy?" 

"Oh my god!" Gwen snapped.  "Don't make fun of me!"

"Ya really think I care?" Raph asked, that amusement still coloring his voice.  

"Do you?" she demanded, one eyebrow arching.

He pushed himself up, muscles bunching with the movement, and positioned himself between her thighs.  "Not even a bit," he murmured, voice low and his eyes darkening with lust.  His fingers found the waist of her booty shorts, giving them a tug downward, "An' I'll prove it."


	15. Trembling Hands

Gwen popped a Sour Patch Kid into her mouth and lifted her eyebrows in challenge, "Can you do a back handspring?"

"Like a backflip?" Raph asked, stuffing his hand into the bag and helping himself to the candy.  

"Yeah, basically," Gwen answered with a shrug.  "Here, like this."  She hopped to her feet and stepped out of the mouth of the culvert, glancing around the dark but everything was quiet.  Well, quiet for  _ New York _ , anyway.

Chewing on the sweet and sour treats, Raph watched as she shook out her limbs, stretching her arms above her head in a quick warm-up.  She met his gaze and grinned and the young turtle felt a strange fluttering in his chest, a feeling that he'd started associating with Gwen since she seemed to be the only one who could make it happen.  "Well?" he asked around a mouthful of candy.  "Ya gonna do it or not?"

"Shut up," she laughed, then without further preamble, pulled in a deep breath and executed a neat back handspring.  She wobbled a bit, not quite sticking the landing, but Raph was hardly going to fault her for that.  

"Cool," he said, but the word didn't really reflect the appreciation he felt.  He  _ liked  _ that she was in shape, that she could doing a backflip without half tryin' . . .

"I'm gonna be in the Olympics someday," she announced, pushing honey blonde hair back over her shoulders and settling down beside him again.  

"Yeah?"

"My coach says that I have  _ potential _ ," she continued with a nonchalant shrug, and Raph could tell she was trying to be all casual about it but there was pride there underneath.  She grinned at him and stole a piece of candy from his palm.  "You can watch me on TV when I win the gold for America."

Raphael found himself smiling as he met her eyes, jostling her lightly with a bump of his shoulder.  "Sensei tells us we 'ave potential all the time."  He shook his head and looked away, "But I ain't never gonna be on TV.  Unless it's some show 'bout freaks."  There was a beat of silence but Raph couldn't bring himself to look at her and he suddenly hated himself for saying something so stupid.

"You're not a freak."

Her words, the soft honesty in her tone, had him meeting her gaze again.  She was watching him, not with pity or some fluffed up desire to make him feel better, but with . . . acceptance?  And he felt like he should say something, or that maybe she should, but they both just sat there looking at each other like a couple of idiots.  And for some reason, his stomach started doing backflips.  

"Look," she said suddenly, leaning closer.  "I have one of those blisters on my tongue."  She stuck her tongue out and pointed to the tip.  "See?"  

The word came out slurred and he leaned closer with a laugh, "Yeah, I see it."  And then, before he could process what was happening, her lips were pressed against his and it was only her hand sliding around the back of his neck that kept him from jerking back in surprise.   _ Holy shit! _  She was  _ kissing  _ him!  And he was just . . . sitting there!  Like a moron!

But Gwen had his back, apparently, because she was taking his hand and guiding it to her waist, her tongue darting clumsily between his lips and prompting him to relax his jaw.  She tasted like Sour Patch Kids, he noticed, and her scent was strong in his nose, distracting in a way that he'd never quite realized before and it had things in his lower belly stirring distractedly.  So distracting, in fact, that he was thinking of pulling away - and then she beat him to the punch.  

He sucked in a deep breath, eyes wide as he watched her in the dim light of Gwen's flashlight, so many emotions tumbling through him that it felt like a tornado inside his chest.  And, for the life of him, Raphael couldn't think of a single thing to say but, once again, Gwen was stepping up.

"You're not a freak," she said again, her hand sliding from his neck to his face.  "You're perfect."


	16. Collapse

"Raph, where have you been?" Leo asked.  "What happened?"

Raphael's lip curled at the sight of his brother.  The sound of his voice was enough to have that simmering anger boiling up inside of him again.  All of that time he'd spent trying to burn it off had been a waste of time, just like he'd known deep down that it would be.  This wasn't the type of hurt that a hard workout - or a bloody fight - would fix.  "Fuck off, Leo," he ground out, the warning rumbling from between clenched teeth.

"No, I won't," Leo fired back, abandoning his Playstation controller on the couch and stepping forward to intercept him.

Raph didn't stop, didn't even slow his gait, plowing straight into his elder brother and giving him a shove for good measure.  Leo'd always been so fuckin' stupid; never knew when to leave well enough alone.  Raph didn't want to hear his bullshit, not  _ today  _ of all days . . .

"Raph, you're bleeding!" Leo protested, giving him a rough shove in return.  

He'd tried to tell him - tried to  _ warn  _ him - and his hands balled into fists, further splitting cracked knuckles and breaking that heartbeat of silence with the heavy  _ plop-plop _ of blood dripping to the floor.

"Would you just--"

The words didn't even make it past Leo's lips before Raph exploded.  He hit the other turtle like a battering ram, driving him back and sending Mikey scrambling out of the way as they both tumbled over the back of the couch in a mess of swinging fists and snarled obscenities.  The world narrowed down to a pinpoint, red pulsing at the edges of his vision as all of that hurt sitting in his gut thrummed through his limbs, fueling that rage that was always there at his fingertips.  

Heavy blows landed, bruising flesh, but this wasn't Leo's first rodeo and Raph suddenly found himself flipping through the air.  He hit the wall  _ hard _ and the pain that lanced through his now-dislocated shoulder had him gasping for air, nausea rolling through his gut as his vision wavered and, dimly, he was aware of Leo moving closer.  Instinct told him to defend himself and he struggled back to his feet, hunched against the pain but determined . . .

Leo wasn't attacking.  Instead, the eldest turtle was approaching warily, with limbs loose and ready as if Raphael were a wild animal coiled to spring again.  "Raph, what's going on?"  

Leonardo's voice was low, his tone gentle, and there was a part of Raph that wanted to continue his rampage, to let that stupid  _ patience  _ fan the fire inside him . . . but the murder in his red-shadowed gaze slowly faded as he glared up at Leo, taking in his brother's split lip and rapidly swelling eye, and Raphael felt his chest seize painfully.  His eyes swept around the lair.  Mikey was hovering near the couch, Donnie and Sensei both nearby, all of them watching and waiting but Raph's voice wouldn't work, the words stuck in his throat and it took two tries before rasped out, "Gwen's pregnant."

"What?" Mikey gasped, bouncing closer to them.  "Dude, seriously?!"  His face was lit with a smile, eyes bright with excitement that made Raph's stomach twist again.  Oh god, Mikey  _ don't  _ . . . 

Leo looked shocked, Donnie elated, even Splinter's subdued expression - a mix of surprise and happiness - spoke volumes and then the emotions that Raphael had been battling finally overwhelmed him.  Tears came, wracking sobs that had his knees giving out and he couldn't even bring himself to care that his brothers, his father, were all standing there watching him.  It didn't matter.  None of it mattered . . . 

Then Leo was there, the weight of his hand on Raph's shell as he took a knee next to him.  "Raph . . ." he started, obviously unsure of what he should say.  

"She's gettin' rid of it," he managed in a broken whisper, forehead against the floor.  

They all heard him though and the heavy silence proved it.  

"Right now," he continued, eyes squeezed shut.  He couldn't look at them.  "She's at the clinic . . ."

And the silence continued, but Leo moved closer and the arm that he wrapped around Raphael's shell was more comfort than the red-masked turtle would  _ ever  _ admit.


	17. Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut smut

"Okay.  Hmmm . . ."  Gwen twisted a long strand of pale hair around one finger, nose scrunched up as she considered.  "Fruit?"

Raphael snorted a laugh, narrowly avoiding the rather uncomfortable sensation of whiskey tickling his sinuses.  "Fruit?" he repeated, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose and passing the bottle off.

Gwen took a long pull, eyes narrowing slightly against the burn.  "Yeah, what's'ya favorite?"

"Strawberries," Raph answered, earning delightedly raised eyebrows in response.

"Oooooh," Gwen laughed, rising up onto knees and one hand to  _ streeetch  _ and put the bottle to his lips.  "That's sex-ay."

Raph smiled, eyes dropping to the soft swell of bare breasts as he reached up to help steady her hand.  His vision was hazy on the edges, a testament to just how much he'd drank tonight, but it didn't stop him from taking another hearty swig.  "What bout'chu?"

Gwen's eyes sparkled in flushed cheeks and she crawled closer, bed creaking under the shift of weight and blankets bunching under her knees as she leaned in for an alcohol laced kiss.  "Cucumbers," she whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

His brain was moving slow, sluggish and booze-soaked, and quite distracted by the soft skin under his hands, but still he was pretty sure-- "Tha' ain't a fruit."

"Yeah, it is," Gwen argued lightly, her free hand running over his bare head as she dipped closer for another kiss.  "It 'as seeds."

"But ya put it in salad."  Leo ate them all the time in his bowls of stupid rabbit food.  Rabbit food to go with his stupid buck teeth . . .

"You can put them in more than salad . . ."

It was her tone, more than the words, that had all thoughts of his brother dissipating; there was playfulness there, a sort of cajoling that led him to believe that she was hinting at something but, for the life of him, he couldn't seem to figure out  _ what _ .  "Huh?" Raph asked, blinking confusedly at the hot blonde straddling his lap.

"I said," Gwen purred, or maybe it was more of a  _ slur _ , "that you can put them in more than just salad."  And with that, she rolled her hips under his hands, grinding against the slowly hardening bulge in the loose basketball shorts he wore.

Raph blinked again, his own hips bucking forward in response, but he still had no idea what she was-- 

Oh.   _ Oh! _

"I have a nice big one in the fridge," she continued with a drunken giggle.  "I bought it cause it reminded me of you . . ."

"Well fuck!" Raph said, the words coming out louder than he'd intended.  "What are ya waitin' for?"

Gwen grinned, "To finish the whiskey."

In what may not have been the brightest move - but made total sense at the time - Raph put the bottle to his lips and tipped it up.  The burning had lessened the further through the bottle they'd gotten, but chugging what was left had his eyes watering and his chest on fire.  But it was gone now and wasn't that really all that mattered?  Gwen's grin lead him to believe that was the case, anyway.  "There," he announced with a shit-eating grin, "Whiskey's gone."  

"Then I'll get the cucumber."  

He watched as she climbed off of him and off of the bed, naked and gorgeous - and maybe a bit unsteady on her feet - and what had started as a lazy, semi hard-on quickly became  _ more  _ as his body woke up.  Was she really gonna let him fuck her with a goddamn cucumber?  The prospect had him giddy and by the time she returned, he was on his knees in the middle of the bed, every scrap of clothing gone and his pupils dilated with hungry desire.  

"You ready?"  She held up the fruit in question, which was - had had to admit - pretty damn comparable to the size of his dick.

"Are _ you? _ " he challenged, one brow ridge lifting.

"Always."

And -  _ oh fuck! _ \- was she ever!  It didn't take much preparation to work the huge fruit inside of her, sliding it in inch by inch before dragging it slowly back out and his eyes flicked back and forth from between her thighs, where her body stretched to accommodate their new toy, to her face so he could read her cues.  Her lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded with arousal and booze and her breathing was a bit unsteady but with the single-mindedness of someone who'd consumed far too much hard liquor, her attention was fully on him.  

"Faster," she ordered, and he did as he was told, the movement kicking her scent into his nose and Raphael felt his own control falling away.  There was no way he'd be able to hold back for much longer . . .

"I need to fuck you," he said, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone.  

Gwen's eyes opened fully, gaze locking with his.  "So do it."

He tossed aside the cucumber, hands gripping her hips as he dragged her closer and plunged into that velvety warmth harder than he'd planned.  The high-pitched gasp that left her lips had him hesitating, but there was a determination there in her voice when she growled, "Hard and fast.  Let's go, Raphael!"

His hands tightened on her hips, fingertips digging into soft skin, and he drove into her again and again, every thrust bringing a gasp or a moan from between the those pretty lips.  Hard and fast.  That was good because, between the booze and the sexiness of fucking her with a fucking cucumber, there was no way he was going to last long.  Already he could feel that tightening in his core, that tingle that he seized and ran with, and when she came underneath him - loud and messy just like usual - there was no stopping himself from following right along.  The orgasm rocked him, muscles quaking as he emptied himself into her with one trembling thrust after the next.  

"Holy shit," he gasped, blinking away the waver in his vision.

"Ditto," Gwen sighed.  A giggle that tightened her body around him followed, "I think you fucked my brains out."

  
Raph groaned at the sensation, one last thrust jerking his hips against her, before he growled, "Ditto."


	18. Flinders

The atmosphere of the lair was somber, Raphael's news a dark cloud hanging over all of their heads and each of them powerless to escape it.  Mikey had disappeared completely, retreating to his room to deal with his disappointment in private, while Leo got to work cleaning up the broken bits of coffee table - a casualty of he and Raphael's fight.  Master Splinter was moving about the kitchen making tea and Donnie himself was sitting at the table with Raphael, one of his brother's hands in his as he dabbed the split knuckles with antiseptic.  

He was watching Raph's face closely, taking in the distant unfocused eyes and the hunched shoulders and he was reminded uncomfortably of when Gwen had left for Boston ten years ago, leaving them all crushed in their own ways - but Raph especially.  Nothing had ever been able to tear his brother apart quite like Gwen and even now, when things seemed to be going so well between them, she was still _ hurting him _ .  

And Donnie wanted to say something to make it better, to tell Raphael that there was a chance he could have successfully overseen the pregnancy, that he probably could have gotten her through the delivery safely, but it seemed needlessly cruel now to bring it up when the decision was made and the deed, presumably, done . . .

So what  _ could  _ he say?  _  I'm sorry _ was a good start, but it seemed so hollow, so  _ inadequate _ , and with every second of silence that stretched between them it became more and more difficult to bring himself to say anything at all.  

The worry was momentarily pushed aside though as Splinter set a cup of tea in front of Raphael.  Raph rarely drank tea, but the gesture spoke loudly and had those listless gold eyes drifting to the steaming cup.  There was a wince as his older brother reached for it, his sore shoulder protesting the movement, and Donnie slid the tea just a bit closer before going back to his work, the silence falling again.

"D'ya think it woulda been a boy or a girl?" 

Don's hands stilled, eyes flicking up to his brother's face and the raw pain written across it.  His chest constricted, mouth opening, but  _ again  _ he just had no words . . .

He didn't need them though, because Splinter was settling into the chair on the other side of Raph, one clawed hand reaching out to rest on his son's shoulder.  "No, my son," he said gently.  "What is done, is done.  Dwelling on  _ what ifs _ will only make your pain greater."

"I dunno if I can forgive 'er."  

The confession brought with it a shuddering inhale that prompted Donnie to give another wary glance up, his hands continuing to wrap the bandages around Raphael's hand.  It was an action that he was pretty sure he could do in his sleep at this point.  

Splinter nodded, "Forgiveness is a gift that you will give when you're ready, Raphael."  

The sound of the front door opening pulled Donnie's attention from his brother and he tensed as Gwen came into view.  She looked just as broken as Raph did, he noticed, her skin blotchy from crying and her hair twisted into a thick braid that hung over her shoulder.  Her purse dangled loosely from one hand, shoulders rounded, but those red-rimmed eyes were fastened on Raphael.  

"I couldn't do it," she admitted, voice hitching with a sob.  

Raphael surged from his chair and Donnie nearly tripped over his own in an attempt to get out of his way, and embarrassingly, there was a lump in his own throat as he watched his brother go to her and wrap her in a clinging, desperate hug.  Don cleared his throat, opened his mouth to tell them that he would do everything he could to keep them all safe through this, but Sensei's hand on his arm stopped the words.  

"Not now, Donatello.  There will be time for reassurances later."

"Yes Sensei."


	19. Alone, finally

He loved his sons, truly he did.  He loved their tenacity, their intrepid curiosity, their desire for his approval and their exuberance, he loved their tempers and their shrill voices when things didn't go quite as they'd planned, but after a long day of parenting a quartet of rambunctious turtles, it was the silence that Splinter truly loved.  That moment after bedtime stories had been read, goodnight kisses bestowed and lights dimmed, when eyes drifted closed and was able to slip away, that was the moment when the rat was able to breath a sigh, allow the tension to melt from his shoulders, to just enjoy the quiet and finally get a moment alone--

"Daddy?"

Splinter's eyes opened, and with the patience of a saint, he turned to find the youngest of his sons staring up at him.  "Yes, Michelangelo?"

"Can I have just one more hug?"


	20. Harsh Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: suicide, blood

"I don't want to do this anymore," Gwen snapped, setting the nearly empty bowl of mashed bananas onto the table with a bit more force than necessary.  

Max turned from the open fridge, confusion and anger passing over his features in quick succession as he fastened blue eyes on her.  "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

Gwen busied herself with cleaning the mess off of Sean's face with a baby wipe, her eyes rolling at her boyfriend's words.  "Isn't it obvious?" she asked over her shoulder, hefting the six month old baby out of the high chair and into her arms.  "As soon as I turn eighteen I'm taking Sean and moving back to New York."

The slam of the fridge had her jumping, whirling to face Max and finding him staring at her with unbridled anger twisting his features.  "You're leaving me?" he asked and disbelief had the words coming out in a tense whisper.  "You can't leave me.  And you can't take my son!"

Gwen's eyes narrowed, her resolve hardening with every word that passed his lips.  "Yeah, I can," she said, matter-of-factly.  "And I  _ am _ ."  She started out of the kitchen, absently bouncing the baby on her hip as she continued, "I hate it here, you know that.  My mom is a fucking bitch, your mom hates me; Boston has  _ never  _ been my home . . ."

"If you leave me, I'll kill myself!"

Gwen paused mid-step, his words cutting straight through to her heart, and she turned back to find him holding a steak knife to the inside of one freckled wrist.  "Max . . ." she started, instinctively clutching the baby closer.

"I'll do it!" he threatened.  "I kill myself!  I'll slit my fucking wrists if you leave me because I can't live without you."

Gwen hesitated, indecision warring within her.  Was he bluffing?  Would he actually do it?  God, she didn't want to be with him anymore but she certainly didn't want him  _ dead _ !  No, he wasn't serious.  He was just trying to keep her from leaving . . .

His hand trembled, knuckles whitening as his grip tightened around the knife,the honed edge biting into the pale flesh.  "Say you'll stay, Gwen," he whispered as blood seeped from around the blade.  "Please say that you won't leave me . . ."

Gwen's chest felt like it was caving in and fear had her eyes welling with tears and she  _ hated  _ herself for taking a step closer, and then another, pausing only long enough to set the baby on the floor.  "I won't leave," she said approached.  "Okay?  Let me have the knife, Max.  Please?"  Tears overflowed in a sob as she reached for the blade.  "I won't leave you."  

"Promise?" he asked, grip tightening.

Gwen swallowed back the nausea creeping through her gut and, not for the first time, she felt overwhelmed by this life she'd stumbled into - motherhood, care-taker to a guy who could barely function day to day, her future ground into the dirt the second she'd quit high school, and all before she could even legally buy a pack of smokes.  She wasn't ready for any of this and it was painfully unfair, all of it, and there was a part of her that just wanted to scream and cry and stomp her feet at that unfairness, but there was another part of her that knew she deserved this.  It was her bad decisions that had led to this.  

So she promised.  She promised him that she would be there for him, that she would never leave him, that she would never take their son away from him, and it was only then that he relinquished his hold on the knife.


	21. In Dreams

The sound of Raphael's snoring greeted her the second she walked into the apartment, loud and deep like someone fucking sawing wood in her bedroom.  He usually waited up for her to get home from work but every once in awhile, if he was really dragging, she'd come home to  _ this _ ; it brought a particular warmth to her cheeks, this sense of rightness that greeted her whenever he was around.  

Gwen deposited her things on the counter and went to her bedroom, slipping inside and giving her eyes a second to adjust to the semi-darkness.  There was a huge shape on her bed that she easily recognized as Raphael's shell and a blink later she could make out the rest of him, stretched out on his stomach with one arm slung over Cookie, who lifted her head and gave a soft  _ whuff _ .   

"Shh," Gwen said, lifting a finger to her lips and the pup's tail thumped in response.

The snoring continued, rumbling through the room like a storm cloud and not for the first time Gwen wondered how the hell she managed to sleep through that; maybe it was the rhythm of it, making it comparable to white noise?

She toed off her combat boots and shrugged out of her hoodie, eyes still on the huge turtle taking up way more of her bed than he dared when she was sharing it with him.  The sheets had worked down to the backs of his thighs, showing off impressively muscled glutes under the rim of his shell and Gwen found herself eager to  _ touch _ .  A shower could wait, right?

She crawled onto the bed, her hand running over those smooth scales, fingertips lingering on the dapples of darker green that patterned them.   _ Like freckles _ , she'd joked the first time she'd gotten a good look at his ass.  His face had flushed and he'd glanced away from her, making a show of turning his shorts right-side out and she'd continued to poke fun at his  _ speckly-freckly bum _ until he had no choice but to turn around and bash her across the shoulder with a pillow.  The laughter and wrestling had quickly given way to kisses and caresses and they'd spent the rest of the night tangled up in each other . . .

The rumbling snore caught in his nose and Raphael woke with a snort, a sleepy smile stretching on his face at the feel of her hand on him.  "Hey there, sleepy head," Gwen greeted, leaning down to press a kiss to one of those booty freckles.  "Rough night?"

"Better now that yer home," he answered, eyes blinking open.  

The soft conversation had the pup wiggling out from under his arm and bopping across the bed to give Gwen a sloppy kiss on her nose.  "And hello to you too," she said, ruffling the pitty's velvety ears.  

"I was dreamin' bout you," Raph admitted, smooshing the pillow up under his head so he could see her a bit better.   


Gwen smiled and nudged the dog off the bed.  "Oh really?" she asked, eyes sparkling.  "Was it a dirty one?"

His grin was downright lecherous and as the light caught in his golden eyes, making them shine like a cat's for a split second, Gwen felt that familiar  _ tug  _ in her lower belly.  "Yeah," he rumbled.  "C'mere and I'll tell ya all about it . . ."


	22. Sea Change

The Rikers Island visitation process was grueling, the searches invasive and offensive, and eventually Gwen was given a tee shirt to replace the V-neck shirt she'd been wearing; apparently it showed too much cleavage - or maybe her collarbones were just too sexy for the inmates to handle.  Truth was, her desire to see Max didn't outweigh the hassle and if she hadn't been adamant about getting answers, then she would have turned around and walked the fuck out but those answers were important and they  _ did  _ outweigh the hassle by a huge margin.  

So she kept walking, allowing herself to be ushered into the visiting room, to take a seat at one of the tables and settle in to wait for the inmates to show up.  She glanced around at the other visitors, mothers with cranky children on their laps, whispering tense threats to  _ knock it off or you won't get McDonald's _ and old ladies with sweet lined faces who never asked for their sons to end up here, and again, Gwen was tempted to just leave--

And then the door opened and the inmates began filing in, nameless faces that she scanned for the familiar one, and very nearly passing straight over him, her mind balking at the sight that greeted her.  He lifted a hand in greeting, weaving his way through the tables as Gwen rose to her feet, her stomach flip flopping with every step he took.  It had been six months since she'd last seen him, but he looked like a different person, his face sunken under freckled cheeks and his hair a mop of ginger curls atop his head.

"Gwennie baby," he said, face lit with excitement.  His front tooth was chipped.  "God, look at you!  You look fucking hot!"  

"Hey Max," she answered warily, easily dodging his hands as he reached for her.   _ Don't call me 'baby'.  _  She tipped her head toward the guards.  "No hugs."  

"Oh, shit.  Right.  Yeah, okay.  I don't, um, get many visitors.  Just my mum, really."  He sank into his chair and Gwen did the same, her eyes drifting down over tattooed forearms that were far skinnier than she remembered them being.  Was he not eating?  Had he pissed off the head of the kitchen like Piper fucking Chapman?  "How're the kids?" he asked, slightly unfocused eyes settling on her.

Gwen swallowed.  There was toxic mix of concern, anger, and something close to hatred sitting in her gut, churning uncomfortably the longer she looked at that familiar yet oh-so different face across from her.  He looked like shit, skin sallow and hands fidgeting, and Gwen wondered how long he'd been using.  Probably since he started being abused.  The thought had the hatred swelling.  He was so fucking  _ weak _ ; a victim here in prison, just like he had been his entire life . . .  

"They're fine," she answered, the words clipped.

Max leaned forward, elbows on the table as he reached for her hands and his skin felt like moth wings beneath her fingertips.  "Gwen baby, when I get outta here, we're gonna be back in Manhattan," he said, eyes dropping only for a second as she drew her hand out of his grip.  "We'll move back into one of those nice buildings and you'll have that life I promised you again . . . and - and Seanie - _ fuck!  _ \- I miss him so much . . ."

"Max," Gwen interrupted, shaking her head.  "That's not why I'm here.  I need to ask you something."  She paused, swallowed again, then said, "I need you to tell me about the night you were arrested.  About . . . the guy in green."

Max blinked, brow furrowing, "Why?  S'not much to tell."  He shrugged, "He was huge, fuckin' jacked.  Deep voice.  I couldn't really see him, it was dark, then I got cracked over the head and woke up when they were puttin' me in the ambulance."

Emotion welled in her chest, choking off her breath with every word that passed his lips.  His story had seemed so inconsequential at the time - a few guys in the dark, he hadn't been able to see them much, just green and red right before he was knocked out cold.  She forced her lungs to inflate, forced her mouth to form words, "Max, did he - did  _ they  _ \- seem human?"  His answer wouldn't matter though, because it was obvious now who had been there to stop the robbery-in-progress, to call in an anonymous tip that led the police to an arrest.  Maybe it had just been a matter of time before Max got caught, before they'd begun missing rent payments, before they'd been evicted, before Veronica decided that Max wasn't paying her back fast enough, but it had all been fast tracked, her life thrown into turmoil, because  _ Raphael  _ had put Max behind bars.


End file.
